“Stealing from what?”
“The River Hel,” he explains.
I frown. Was my attacker the same person poisoning the river? But if so, why? Especially if they are benefiting from the power. “The attacker used the shadows and steam to hide himself. He had a dagger. I think…I think he meant to kill me.”
“Lucifer Rising,” Oziel growls in a way that tells me those are curse words here. “I’ve been dealing with the River Hel all morning. That’s why I wasn’t with you. Are you certain this person used shadows?”
I nod. “Yes. I should have been able to see him, but the shadows surrounded him like they do you. I couldn’t make out any of his features. Hell, I’m not even certain it was a man.”
Oziel curses again.
“Feel bad for accusing me of fucking another man?” I ask after a moment because, yeah, I’m still pissed about that.
Oziel has the decency to look ashamed. “My apologies, Kitten. I’ve been on edge all night. I’m not in my right mind. I saw Garvan with you and?—”
“You thought I let him fuck me,” I finish and roll my eyes. “No, dear husband, I was, in fact, trying not to die.”
“Isabelle, I’m sorry.” His apology sounds so sincere, and yet odd coming from him. Those words are likely not ones he says often. Maybe ever. What does a king have to be sorry for anyway? Still, part of me can understandwhere he was coming from. Doesn’t make it right or justify it, but stress can do crazy things to people.
“Forgiven.” I sink down into the chair. My shoulder accidentally bumps the table, causing the dome and roses to rock back and forth. On instinct, I reach out to steady it, but then strong arms wrap around my midsection and pull me away. The air leaves my lungs when I hit a solid chest.
“What the hell?” I watch as the roses and dome finally stop rocking, thankfully not falling over and crashing to the ground.
“Don’t touch it,” Oziel warns. “It’s dark magic.”
“Dark magic?” I furrow my brows. “What do you mean? It’s just a bouquet.” Then realization hits me. “Wait…is that…?”
Oziel’s grip on me remains firm, yet not restraining. If I truly wanted to, I could pull away with ease, but I don’t. A part of me refuses to dwell on what that might mean.
At last, he answers, his voice solemn with a heavy truth. “It is. This, Kitten,” Oziel continues, his now golden eyes darkening with something unreadable, “is the curse upon my kingdom.”
Chapter 22
Oziel
“What do you mean?” Isabelle turns, her wet body only inches from mine. This damn woman is under my skin. I don’t like it.
Seeing her half naked and escorted by Garvan nearly sent me into a violent rage. Rage is no stranger to me, but I’ve never let it lead me before. Never let it control me. I control it. But when I looked at Garvan, all I wanted to do was tear him limb from limb until his cries echoed throughout the kingdom.
This growing need inside me slithers like a snake, ready to strike the moment I let my guard down.
Isabelle looks at me expectantly. Unlike most, there’s no fear in her gaze in regards to me. Only a fierce determination I’ve come to associate with her. Together, I think we’d make a formidable pair. But unfortunately, this pairing has an expiration date.
My gaze flickers to the faint glow of the roses. Those damn roses, an omen and a curse wrapped up in one.
Isabelle takes my silence as reluctance to speak and continues to pry. “I know you said the roses are the curse, but why? Who would curse you with roses? Glowing ones at that.”
This is the question I’ve dreaded. My hatred for roses is no secret to my people, but for Isabelle, who didn’t grow up here, she has no idea what they symbolize for me. Memories I’ve shoved deep down resurface; the familiar pangs of sadness puncture through my barriers. It happened so long ago, and yet…it feels like it was just yesterday.
“Oziel,” Isabelle speaks my name with reverence, like she’s reciting a prayer. She reaches out, soft fingers dancing across my chest. “Talk to me.”
Three simple words, and I feel myself yielding to my queen. She opened herself to me yesterday. It is only right I do the same. The words tumble out, each one feeling like a burden. “The Nephilim cursed me or, rather, my kingdom. They are known to use your weakness against you, and mine has always been roses. They were my mother’s favorite. She used to weave them into her hair, into the tapestries of the palace. The gardens were filled with them. Blood-red roses stretching for miles, as if the land itself bled beneath our feet.”
My jaw tightens, a muscle ticking as the memories resurface. “My father used to say they were a symbol of love. A promise that, even in darkness, beauty could thrive.”
“Are you certain your parents were demons? They sound like hopeless romantics.” Isabelle’s question is awelcome distraction, lifting some of the heavy weight upon my chest.
“They were completely and disgustingly in love. A powerful duo with powerful enemies. Demon nature is chaos and discord. Love isn’t something many of us experience. Lust?” I inhale Isabelle’s spicy scent. It goes straight to my cock, making it twitch in interest.
